


Hamartia

by ohmyflavors (hannibae)



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Bottom Rhett, Breathplay, Infidelity, M/M, Slight Pain Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 10:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9379763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibae/pseuds/ohmyflavors
Summary: Rhett barely hears him through the ringing in his ears. He did say that. He promised, and then—Well, and then he didn’t follow through with it.It is his fault, and he deserves this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> inspired directly from something rhett said in [gmmore 1054](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JAXuhhDaXPM&t=318s)
> 
> note: this isn't happy. this is probably the least happy thing i've ever written in my entire life. rhett is kind of a dick in this. enjoy!

He’s not kind with his movements.

His hips no longer have that sweet, subtle sashay to them, replaced instead with a bite of harsh intent. And they’re driving his cock directly down Rhett’s throat.

He already feels raw, feels used, feels the wet, sticky tears rolling fat and unwanted down his cheeks from the force. Everything about him feels open and rough, from his throat to his hole, where Link’s got two fingers buried in him in a feat of flexibility that’s got Rhett struggling for breath.

When he pulls away entirely, wet cock sliding out of Rhett’s throat, he can’t help the breath of laughter that pours out of him. He’s done being kind, too, then.

He says, “I could pretend to be your wife if you want me to.” It’s barely a croak, a weak, feeble sound that grates out of him, and he’s met with a snarl, two fingers—clean ones, thankfully—being shoved into his mouth, holding him open while Link fists his cock.

Link finally looks down at him, eye-contact for the first time since this started, and tells Rhett, “Shut the fuck up.”

The vulgarity rocks through him, makes him laugh again, an angry, painful sound while spit dribbles from his open mouth. He feels it slicking his face, dripping down his chin and onto the rug below.

Rhett tries to swallow, and he can’t. Link has taken that dignity away from him.

“This is your fault,” Link tells him, hot and thick and vicious. Rhett feels the bite of them in the air, feels it again when Link replaces his fingers with his cock. He buries his wet hand in Rhett’s hair, guides him all the way down and hums when he gets there. “You told me we’d stop,” he says.

Rhett barely hears him through the ringing in his ears. He did say that. He promised, and then—

Well, and then he didn’t follow through with it.

It is his fault, and he deserves this.

It’s not much of a punishment. He’ll let Link confess his sins into the back of his throat all he wants, allow him to repent everything into the depths of his body. He’ll let him do whatever he wants, as long as this never stops.

Their failures are etched into Rhett’s bones already, and he carries them heavily, walks through life marred under the surface. He’ll gladly open himself up and carry the burden of Link’s, too. It’s why he’s here.

Link pulls out graciously when Rhett taps him on the thigh three quick times, balls his fist in Rhett’s hair instead, tugging at the strands until fresh tears spring to Rhett’s eyes. He pants harshly, trying to catch his breath, and Link tells him, “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“That I missed this,” Rhett tells him, smiling meanly up at him. He licks his lips. “That I wanted to feel you again.”

“You said we’d stop,” Link says again, bites the words out and spits them at Rhett. “You—“ and his voice breaks, bottom lip trembles, and Rhett has to look away.

He’s only allowed to for a second before Link is tugging his head forward again, pulling him to his knees painfully, until they’re face-to-face. When Link kisses him, it’s mean. There’s a rush of pain, a sting on his lip, sharp teeth breaking sensitive skin.

When Rhett kisses Link, it’s an apology. He takes the pain, swallows it down just like he does Link’s grunts, secures it all in the echoes of his heartbeat like he has for all these years.

And that’s where Rhett keeps him, tucked away on just the outskirts so he can pick and choose when he feels him. The distant reverberations of his heartbeat the only ounce of himself he reserves for Link. He thinks maybe that’s Link’s problem. He got messy, mixed Rhett up into the rest of himself, buried him deep in his roots, and gave him full reign of his heart. Link fucked up, but Rhett’s got it all figured out. Rhett knows how to compartmentalize, how to keep Link just on the very thin layer of muscle.

Rhett pumps through Link’s arteries, seeps into every inch of him, under his skin, in his lungs.

Link fucked up.

It’s not Rhett’s fault.

“What happened to us?” Rhett whispers, pulling away. Link’s breath is hot and unpleasant on his face. “When did you let me in so deep?”

“The very first time,” Link tells him. “The first time you put your hands on me.”

“You fucked up,” he says simply. “ _You_ fucked up.”

Link growls, “Turn around.”

Rhett does. He bends, gets on all fours, and waits. He hears Link move, knows when his fingers work quickly at getting a condom on by the intake of breath. While he’s pressing the thick, blunt head of his cock to Rhett’s hole, Rhett uses his bicep to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Link’s bottoming out before he even picks his head back up.

He takes it gratefully, opens himself up for whatever Link decides to give him. He’s stuffed full of Link, cock thick and big inside him, and he always feels the most alive like this. When Link buries his fingers into his hair again, tugs his head back and puts his free hand around his throat, he _soars_.

His vision blurs from tears and the hazy ache of his breath just barely squeezing out of him. His limbs feel heavy, and his head feels full. Link lets go after a few seconds, but Rhett holds his breath, chasing that feeling.

“Are you punishing yourself?” Link asks, and Rhett lets his head fall between his shoulders, choking out another laugh.

“I’m just helping you along the way, brother,” he says. “This is what you want, right? For me to be punished? And since the universe doesn’t seem to be doing it—“

He lets the sentence hang, lets Link wrap his hand around his throat again and press down just enough.

God, he’s hard, hanging thick and heavy between his legs like he’s been given salvation instead of damnation.

He doesn’t feel damned.

He doesn’t feel punished.

He feels like he’s won.

His intent hasn’t always been malicious, didn’t ever cross his mind at first, until it twisted and morphed into a sick competition in his own brain. And really, why he didn’t see that coming, he doesn’t know.

As soon as the edges of his vision turn spotty and black, he taps the back of Link’s hand and feels the sweet release. The burning in his lungs feels like a victory.

“I do want you to be punished,” Link finally says. It’s whispered, and Rhett hears him pant it out in time with his thrusts, harsh and heavy and deep.

Rhett can’t feel anything other than Link, his senses numb to the rest of the world, and he thinks he finally understands how Link feels, now.

“Why?” Rhett asks, raspy from his ruined throat and Link sinks inside slowly, grinding his hips cruelly when they’re flush to Rhett’s ass.

He stays like that, hand finding Rhett’s hair again, too. Link’s breathing stutters, and Rhett listens to it tell a story. He hears the way he hesitates, feels his fingers flex in his hair. When he pulls out, thrusts back in, hard and angry, Rhett bites back the moan that tries to punch its way out of him.

“Because I can’t keep doing this, Rhett,” Link tells him, and it’s the surest his voice has sounded through this whole thing. It comes out steady and strong, and when his hips start working again, hard and fast and punishing, Rhett takes it in stride.

The words sting through him, and he feels himself crumble just a little bit, fall apart just enough to give Link permission to punish him at last.

And suddenly, everything aches. The pressure of Link’s hand on the curve of his spine that he hadn’t even realized was there until just now; the residual, ghost feeling of Link’s fingers on his throat; the fiery burn of the rug rubbing his knees raw; his hole, full and just only barely prepared enough for this.

Pain blooms, loud and bright, and he takes all of it. He allows it to wash through him, seep into his muscles, cut deep and hard, bite through sinew and bone.

Finally, it feels like punishment. It feels like repentance. It feels like retribution.

Link comes first, nothing but a series of broken gasps falling out of him when he does. Rhett wouldn’t have even known it happened had he not fucked into him one last time, hips stuttering just a little bit, fingers twisting sharp and painful in Rhett’s hair. His other hand, the one pushing on the curve of his spine, digs its nails into Rhett’s skin.

It’s when Link is pulling out, pushing Rhett onto his back onto the rug, tugging and pulling at him so he doesn’t knock his knees on the coffee table, that Rhett realizes Link has won, at last.

The game was supposed to end in Link’s favor all along, and now it’s here.

He goes a little limp, his body giving up, heart jumping into his throat when Link swallows his cock down in one go. He was always better at giving head than Rhett.

His mouth is wet and hot, and Rhett only comes when the barest hint of teeth come out to play. He doesn’t rock his hips up, doesn’t pull Link’s head down.

He submits fully.

He hands over the reins.

And by the time Link is standing up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Rhett realizes he’s crying again. Only this time it isn’t because he can’t breathe. It isn’t because Link’s cock is jammed down his throat and his fingers are tangled in his hair. It isn’t a physical manifestation of pain, and that’s what bothers him the most.

He decides not to move, just listens to the sounds of Link cleaning up, tugging on his jeans. He listens to him type out an email on his computer.

Before he walks out of the office, Link tells him, “We can’t do this anymore.”

Rhett nods his head, feeling sticky and raw.

By the time the office door is shutting behind Link, every nerve in his body feels exposed.

The game is over.

He doesn’t move off the floor until he sees the light from outside the office switch off.


End file.
